


A Simple Housewife

by writingsfromafangirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Domestic Fluff, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Feels, Fights, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Mentioned Peter Parker, One Shot, Protective Bucky Barnes, Tumblr, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28902114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingsfromafangirl/pseuds/writingsfromafangirl
Summary: A new member starts getting too friendly with you one night, forcing Bucky to show a side of himself you’ve never seen before. A possibly never want to see again. [Mob!AU]
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 91





	A Simple Housewife

**Author's Note:**

> I am such a sucker for mob!au but sometimes I have a hard time finding any but then I realized I could just... write them myself so boom! that's exactly what I did. I hope others enjoy just as much as I do. (For clarification - while not explicitly stated in the work, Peter is 18+ in this, I imagined him about college age)

You liked how you two worked as a team. Bucky liked to hold meetings at your home, and you liked to host them. It was an unspoken agreement every time he’d come home and rattle off who was going to be around the next night.

These instances always sent you into a frenzy, but a good kind of frenzy. It gave you something to do. While a simple housewife per your husband’s request, these events meant you could fill your days planning menus, table settings, wine pairings, grocery shopping… It was therapeutic in some ways and even nicer knowing it would be appreciated. 

His men loved to fawn over your perfectly cooked food or premium hand-picked wine and you simply adored it. While it sometimes rubbed Bucky the wrong way seeing you all giggly over compliments from other men, he typically let it slide. It was never very serious and certainly never went beyond sweet comments. You embraced your hosting duties while pretending to ignore the conversations that would go on in the next room after the meal, much to Bucky’s content. 

The night had started like any other. Bucky came home the previous day and told you there was going to be a meeting tomorrow night and to expect to host ten of his men. That seemed like such a smaller crowd than he normally had over, so you inquired, curious.

"Only ten?" You asked, already rushing to grab your pen and paper for the planning.

Bucky nodded, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, we’ve got someone new coming on and I don’t want to overwhelm him."

"A new guy?" Your eyes lit up. "You mean someone who hasn’t tasted my lasagna?"

Your husband couldn’t hold back the chuckle at your innocent awe. Moments like these made him wonder how someone so warm could ever deal with someone like him. 

You weren’t totally clueless about his career, you knew at least a general description of what he did for a living, but, on the other hand, you hadn’t ever _seen_ it. You roughly knew there were… multiple sides to him but those all seemed so distant, so pointless, at the time. In this home, with you, he was just Bucky. Your Bucky. Your husband. The one who showered you with love and appreciation. 

"Yes, doll," your husband confirmed. "There’s someone who hasn’t had your famous lasagna."

"Wonderful!" You clapped and started writing out the menu. "Are there any requests? I certainly don’t want to mess anything up. God forbid the new guy thinks I’m a bad host or something."

You heard Bucky sigh as you continued making your notes. A hand came to your shoulder softly, halting your actions. You turned to face your husband, who was looking down at you with a soft smile, easing your worries nearly completely. 

"Everything is going to be just fine," he said, placing a loving kiss on your forehead. You helplessly melted into the touch. "There’s nothing to worry about."

***

You were running around the kitchen like a mad man when Bucky came home the next night with a couple of men already following behind. He called out to greet you like some cheesy sitcom entrance. You force yourself to halt your panic, knowing it was in your best interest to go greet him and the first guests. Smoothing out your apron, you double-checked nothing would explode in flames upon your absence and made your way to the foyer. 

"Hi, honey," you smiled as your eyes landed on your well-dressed, sophisticated-looking husband. For all the time spent together, he never did fail to make you swoon simply by just standing there. 

"Hey, doll." Bucky matched your smile and gave you a kiss on the cheek knowing you would stress even more if he dared to smudge your lipstick.

When you two parted, your eyes wandered over your husband’s shoulder to the two men standing in front of the door. The one staring at you two exchanging welcomes you recognized right away as your husband’s right-hand-man Steve. Ever so strong and important looking.

But the boy standing next to Steve was a mystery. He was a bit smaller than them both but still had some height on you. This didn’t take away, though, from this timid look. He gazed around your home seeming so in awe of it all. He didn’t realize you were staring at him until Steve nudged him. 

Bucky picked up on your curiosity and immediately jumped into introductions. Motioning towards the boy, "This is Peter. He’s the new member I was telling you about."

"Oh, of course," You smiled, outstretching your hand. Peter accepted the shake, a little on the enthusiastic side. "Very nice to meet you."

"It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Barnes." The boy responded, holding slightly too much eye-contact, but you couldn’t blame him.

Your hands disconnected and you chuckled at the formalities, waving a hand in dismissal. You told him to call you by your first name. "The whole misses thing feels so serious," you insisted. 

Peter just smiled, a twinkle in his eyes almost. He seemed to relax at your casualness. After the introductions, you led the men into the front room, offering up drinks and hors d’oeuvres. They helped themselves as you started to make your way back to the kitchen. For some reason, you decided to look back at the group. Your eyes met Peter’s immediately. The other men didn’t seem to notice, engrossed in some conversation as they poured their beverages. You simply smiled at the boy and headed back to the food. 

It wasn’t too long after the first arrivals that the rest of the members started arriving. You didn’t have time to personally greet them all but Bucky assured you that was never necessary. You two had your own things to run, he liked to joke. 

With everything places — food, silverware, centerpieces — you called the men into the dining room. They oohed and awed at the spread of lasagna, bread, veggies… All food groups were represented, you thought. As predicted, they began praising you for the meal as if it was the first time in their life that they’d ever eaten and it made you giggle. These were some of the toughest people you’d ever known and yet a simple baking dish of pasta and sauce could amaze them. 

Once everyone was seated and digging in, you took your seat at the other end of the table, directly across from Bucky. As you began passing around the bread, you surprisingly found Peter sitting next to you. 

"They made you sit down at this end?" You asked, handing him the breadbasket. Usually, the members dreaded sitting near the wife. While they were all so kind, in moments like these, they’d rather be at the other end looking so important.

"New guy," Peter shrugged, taking a piece of bread and moving it along. 

"I thought this meeting was, like, for you," you said, cutting into the slice of lasagna one of the other men were so kind to serve you. 

"No," he shook his head, beginning to eat. "At least that’s not how Mr. Barnes described it. Doesn’t matter, though. It’s just nice to be here."

You smiled, delighted by his optimism, having not seen many new members in your time with Bucky. "I hope the foods okay. I got nervous when Bucky said there’d be someone new coming around."

Peter scoffed as if finding your worry crazy which eased your mind a little. He took another bite of food. "This is easily one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time."

"Thank you, Peter," you said, taking a sip of your wine. Peter copied your motion, looking at you above the wine glass rim as he sipped. 

"You did everything, yeah?" He asked, holding his wine while motioning towards the tables and surroundings. "Foods, plates, all of it?"

You nodded, probably coming off a bit more eager than you should’ve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Sure, Bucky’s guests loved to compliment your cooking but no one ever acknowledged the other pieces put into the meal. 

"I try to change the table setting every season," you said, "and I like the food to be seasonal, too. There are some lovely markets around and I just adore browsing them… Oh! And the centerpieces, I got the flowers there, too…"

Your rambling died down as you caught Bucky staring at you from the other end of the table. One guy was trying to talk his ear off but he seemed interested in your conversation. Curiously, you started eying your husband back as you picked at your food. His face held an unreadable expression but, eventually, his eyes left yours and were now more focused on the one sitting next to you.

Appearing oblivious, Peter continued the conversation. "Well, I think the flowers are a nice touch," he said. "Pretty flowers picked by a pretty girl."

Your heart skipped a little at that comment. You couldn’t ignore the fact it was quite bold. While you were away of the gazes you got sometimes and the possibility you were talked about behind the scenes but to say it here? At the dinner table? With your husband just in earshot? 

But at the same time, you had to consider, he was nice and probably just trying to butter you up hoping for a good word put in with the bossman. There was no doubt people thought they could get to Bucky through you but, in reality, you didn’t stick your hands in any of it. Nope, you just married into it.

Not completely sure how to respond, you simply accepted the compliment, "Well, thank you. That’s very sweet."

Peter smiled at your words, looking a bit proud of himself. You turned back to your plate and tried to eat your meal in silence. 

Once everyone was finished, the group started making their way out of the dining room. You shooed them, promising to be out with coffee in a bit. 

You were deep into cleaning, having finally carried all the dishes from the dining room to the kitchen when someone entered. 

At first, you didn’t explicitly hear them as the faucet was running heavy from your battle of scrubbing dishes. Suddenly, you could sense a presence right behind you at the sink. Turning around, you nearly jumped out of your skin as you came face-to-face with Peter, looking almost amused at scaring you. You were surprised and also… _not_ surprised.

"Sorry," you let out a breathy chuckle. "I didn’t hear you come in."

"That’s okay," he said and motioned towards the dirty plates lining the counter. "Do you need any help?"

"Oh," you frowned. "Shouldn’t you be in the meeting with everyone else?

He shook his head, "Mr. Barnes doesn’t want to start until he’s had coffee."

"Well, you can let him know it’s brewing away," you said, trying to keep your tone serious as you could. You turned back to the sink, praying he got the hint.

He hadn’t, you realized, as Peter came around to stand at your side, leaning against the counter. He stood, arms crossed, watching you. 

It was weird — actually, this entire situation was weird. You didn’t think anyone but you or your husband had been in this kitchen before let alone actually know where it was in your home.

Despite how odd you found it, the last thing you wanted to be was rude. You didn’t want to think about what could ensue from your husband losing a guy.

"It’s kind of sad, Mrs. Barnes," Peter crossed his arms, seemingly ignoring your previous request to call you by your first name. You glanced at him, confused. "You’re so kind to do all this and none of them even offer to help you clean up."

"Oh, no, It’s okay-,"

"It’s really sad," He repeated, completely cutting off your attempt at a defense. You frowned and went back to cleaning the plates, praying your attempt to ignore him would encourage him to walk out. There was a weird feeling growing in your gut. 

"Such a pretty girl shouldn’t have to do so much," Peter said, softly. "It’s not fair to you."

And that’s when you felt it. His hand slowly came up to rest on your lower back. You immediately tensed under his touch, mind spinning. What the hell had you ended up in? Should you have tried harder to get him out? Gosh, but he seemed so harmless-

His hand started inching upward and then back down, creeping a little lower each time with the motion. With your stance frozen, all you could do was focus on the soapy water in the sink, unsure of your next move. He took the hesitance as a chance to close the gap between you two. A few more shifts and he could have you fully pressed against the sink. 

But before you could even ponder about his next move, the swinging kitchen door busted open. You both flinched at the sudden noise but Peter didn’t seem to move. You looked over to find it was Bucky in the doorway, gun drawn and pointed directly at Peter. 

Your heart sank when you saw the weapon. Sure, you knew there was weaponry stored in the home but you had never definitely seen it. You could sometimes make out outlines of guns in suit pockets but now you were on the other end of one. While it wasn’t meant for you, with your poor positioning, a single shot and you could be taken down. And by your _husband_ -

"What the fuck are you doing?" Bucky finally spoke, never taking his eyes off the person nearly towering over you. The gun was very steady, just like his words. But everything else about him was unlike anything you’d ever witnessed before. His eyes were dark, his features so harsh. This felt like a man you had never seen before. 

"We were just talking," Peter answered. His voice was casual but you could feel a slight tremor in his hand. Or maybe that was just your body shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t tell. "I offered to help her clean up."

Bucky cocked the gun. "Get your hands off her."

"Honey," you spoke softly, your voice slightly cracking from the tears that were beginning to form. "Please put the gun down."

"Not until he gets his hands off you, doll."

"Bucky, please." He wouldn’t look at you. He was determined to look beyond you and it scared you to death.

"You have five seconds to back away from her," Bucky took a step closer. "Or I’ll be forced to mess up my girl’s lovely kitchen."

You gasped at the sharpness in his voice, the entire darkness of it all. You started begging under your breath, hoping whoever or whatever heard the helpless prayers. 

Finally, after what felt like hours to you, Peter stepped away from you. You turned to look back at the copy water where your hands were still submerged. They shook as you removed them and you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. 

Regaining some composure, you backed away from the sink and turned to your husband. Bucky still had the gun pointed at Peter, completely focused on him. Slowly, you approached him, your hands raised as if surrendering. You just needed to get the gun put away and then you could run to your room for some solitude. Fuck the other people probably oblivious, just relaxing and joking in your front room. This was typical business for them, they probably encountered your husband’s dark demeanor day in and day out, but this was going to take a toll on you. 

"Honey, his hands are off of me," you whispered, slowly tiptoeing closer. "Put down the gun."

"He put his hands on you, doll," Bucky was answering you but he somehow sounded so distant, so consumed. "I let someone into this house that was going to do God knows what to you."

"No, no," you shook your head and you meant it. You didn’t think Peter was totally malicious. Just someone with a crush, high off excitement in a new place. "I really don’t think he meant harm."

"You’re too kind," Bucky scoffed. "You’re too kind, too innocent, too _naive_ -,"

He held the gun stronger, seemingly preparing to shoot any second now. You were at the end of your rope with the realization. The waterworks were flowering uncontrollably now. 

"James," you said, anger breaking through the tears. He seemed to freeze ever so slightly at your usage of his first name. "You really want to do this in front of your wife?"

Something clicked. You could feel it, you knew it. He didn’t answer and instead slowly lowered the weapon, placing it on the counter. Your husband turned to you. Seeing his opportunity, Peter sped past you two out of the kitchen. Neither of you really registered it. You were staring at one another, watching each other even begin to realize what had happened. 

Now you were actually clueless. Were you meant to talk about this? Or did you just deal with it in time? The silence was killer but all your mind could focus on was the coffee machine that had gone silent, telling you it was done brewing. It was such a stupid, random thing to even focus on but you felt like your brain would explode if gave anything else the time of day.

"The coffee is ready for your meeting," you said, pulling off your apron and throwing it on the counter. Bucky watched you as stormed out of the kitchen, looking completely stunned and equally clueless.

You sat at your vanity in the bedroom. Thankfully you were able to avoid the front room, having no desire for anyone to see you in with mascara running down your cheeks. 

You furiously scrubbed off your make-up despite it already almost off from the tears. Your emotions were just all over the place at this point. You didn’t know if you were angry, surprised, sad… 

Mostly, you realized, you felt dumb. You could parade around being a little housewife, pretending she lived a normal life with a normal husband who had a normal job but that just wasn’t it. That wasn’t your reality in this moment. As much as you knew what his career entailed, seeing it up close like that was a whole new level. You thought you knew. You thought you knew so much. 

You were just finishing changing out of your dress when the bedroom door opened. In the mirror, your angry eyes met Bucky’s worried ones. He entered slowly, shutting the door behind him. Part of you was pleased with this situation. He chose to check on you, pausing his meeting, but at the same time, you didn’t know if you could deal with anyone right now.

"How are you doing?" He finally spoke up, voice cutting through the tension. 

You scoffed, "I just saw my husband pull a gun on a person in our fucking home."

Bucky shook his head and made his way over to the bed, where he sat at the edge, facing you. He wanted to get at you for swearing but much worse things had happened tonight that he didn’t know the point in it. Bucky never wanted to bring anything like that home. 

He didn’t take care of that kind of "business" in this house. The meetings were routine, typically check-ins, but any deals or assignments were handled off the premises in fear of something turning ugly. He just wanted to keep you from that ugly. His sweet, soft wife who got excited over making lasagna and picking apples at the farmer’s market was never meant to be thrown into any of this. Especially not in the kind of way that just went down. 

"I didn’t mean for that to happen," Bucky said. You rolled your eyes and turned quickly in your chair to face him. He ignored your attitude. "He had his hands on you. He was practically on top of you. Do you understand that? Please tell me you understand how that would make me angry."

"God, Bucky, you pulled a gun on an unarmed person!" You exclaimed. "I understand you were upset, I completely get that, but what… What was that? _Who_ was that?"

His head tilted, confused, questioning. You shook your head in disbelief. Did he not even realize the mode he went into? The whole other person he seemed to encompass in those few minutes?

"You… you weren’t yourself," you mumbled and averted your gaze to your fingers which were fidgeting, restless. "You were scary. Disconnected. I didn’t know that person."

Bucky didn’t say anything at first. He got up from the bed and walked over to where you were seated at your vanity. He crouched down, trying to get you to look at him. Your heart pounded furiously at his close presence. 

"You shouldn’t have seen that," He said. "You shouldn’t have seen any of that, doll." 

His hands came to grasp yours. You wanted to pull away but you weren’t fast enough. He gripped your hands firmly as if scared you were going to vanish. Your head was swimming with even more confusion as he avoided your questioning. 

"Can you even explain yourself?" You asked, finally looking up at him. Bucky’s worry seemed to have melted away and was replaced by something you once again couldn’t put your finger on.

He shook his head. The grip on your hands got tighter. "You have to understand when things come up I must act accordingly."

You didn’t understand but you _had_ to understand. You knew you did. He was right. While jarring, that other side of Bucky did exist out there and he was probably the reason he could be so successful. And while that was something you could work on accepting, you didn’t want to see it in your home.

But for now, you didn’t want to deal with it. Emotions for you both were running high and there was no telling what could come out of your mouth anymore. You’d come back to it and work it out. There was no way you could avoid it. You didn’t think you could ever be scrubbed clean of what you saw.

"Okay," you mumbled and felt his hold on your hands loosen. "Just… Please don’t bring your work home for the time being. We can discuss this in the morning."

Bucky nodded, running his hand from your hands to your shoulder, lovingly. He mumbled okay and you sighed in relief. 

For a second you wanted to just sit there, engrossed in the comfort his touch was bringing, completely and fully enjoy that you had _your_ Bucky back, but then your brain remembered the people downstairs. 

"Oh, honey," you said, "the guys are probably waiting for you."

"No," Bucky’s head shook. "I sent them home. You’re more important."

You melted at the words. Yes. Confirmed. Your Bucky was back to you. The man you loved and gave everything. He was putting you first.

"You didn’t need to do that," you mumbled, bashfully. Bucky chuckled at your reaction. 

"Of course I did," he insisted. "I was worried. I never wanted you to see that. You didn’t sign up for that."

"No, Bucky, I really didn’t," you shook your head. 

He sighed, "And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

You looked down again, suddenly worried you were putting too much guilt on him but at the same time, that felt silly to even consider. You weren’t sure anymore. The day was overwhelming as the minutes continued.

"Could we just go to bed now?"

Bucky removed his hands from your shoulders and stood, allowing you to get out of the chair and make your way to the bed, under the fluffy comforter. Your husband watched, waiting until you were comfortable. 

"I’ve got a few phone calls to make but then I’ll come to bed, okay?"

You nodded, eyes shut already halfway into your dream world. You heard Bucky chuckle as he turned out the lights and shut the door quietly. 

You lulled yourself to sleep, head still spinning from the earlier acts. The whiplash your husband gave you was starting to catch up but how much more could you think about it? It’d come back and you’d have to deal but for now, you could pretend. At least while you slept, you could go back to putting that distance between yourself and any side of Bucky that wasn’t husband Bucky. For just a bit, you could pretend you didn’t know so much.


End file.
